


Suits and Bathroom Stalls

by gala_apples



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Other, School Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are clear benefits to going to a private school, and the administrators thinking being rid of Gerard isn't worth the lost income of kicking him out is only the least of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suits and Bathroom Stalls

Gerard thinks they're trying to steal his creativity, his individuality. Donna and Don don’t listen to him, because it’s a claim he makes at least a dozen times a day. When he’s feeling more than normally oppressed the count can spiral to close to triple digits as he claims it every second sentence. Hell, it’s the reason they had to switch schools, Gerard screaming at Mrs. Waits that he wasn’t going to read Where The Red Fern Grows because she was a android determined to turn everyone in the class into robots.

Well, technically only Gerard got kicked out. But Mikey would never leave him. They’ve only got a year left anyway, before Gerard inevitably gets into an art school and fucks off for years on end. Mikey can handle one year in a stuffy private school where they pardon all sorts of insanity because the parents are paying enough that the teachers and counsellors can cover it up. If it sucks he’ll just go back to public school for junior and senior year. Besides, he’s got the same threads of insanity Gerard does, his just come out in vastly different ways. It’ll probably do him good to be in a school that ignores it all.

Unlike a lot of Gerard’s claims -he still can’t see how the local diner not having peach syrup was oppressing his individuality, it’s not like they could afford to stock every topping on the planet- Mikey can see why he'd think that the school sucks. That doesn’t mean he agrees. Gerard’s number one complaint is the mandatory wardrobe, and it doesn’t bother Mikey. He’s quite content with his uniform.

He had to go with Donna to pick them up, because Gerard refused. The fit wasn’t surprising, Mikey had figured a one in ten chance Gerard would actually come with them. It was easy enough to place Gerard’s set in front of his door and go back to his own room. Mikey guesses there’s a fifty fifty chance the clothes will last until Gerard’s first day; he’s got a penchant for burning things he hates, but Donna warned him if he burned them the next set was coming out of his own pocket.

Once Mikey’s in his room he strips off the hoodie and jeans that are a constant on his body and tries on the uniform. It fits well, the cloth isn’t itchy, and it’s the right weight that he won’t sweat through it, but he also won’t shiver. He’ll miss his hoodie, but decides that the navy blue jacket can be his new hoodie, sans band logo. Mikey looks at himself in the mirror and thinks he looks great. Like, fucking stunningly good. He pulls off a uniform like Kaci Montague pulls off a bikini at the nearby pool.

Looking at himself makes him hard. Maybe it’s a bit narcissistic. Well, definitely it’s narcissistic. But Mikey’s hard, and he’s alone in his bedroom and he’s not going to waste it. He sprawls on his bed, comforter bumpy under his back and unzips the tiny gold zipper. He’s never quite understood why dress pants always have smaller zippers that jeans, and he mentally adds it on his list of Things to Google Eventually. He pushes his briefs down just enough that he can get his cock out and starts to stroke himself. There’s more friction with his dry hand, it makes him come faster. He takes a moment to smooth out his tie after the pointed edge falls back by his shoulder, and continues until he arches his hips up and spurts onto his hand.

He doesn't think of it as a potential problem until the first day of school. He's hard the entire morning, looking at a sea of teenage boys in grey slacks, white shirts, navy jackets and their choice of tie. There is a school colours tie, but he’s seen less than a dozen people wearing it. It's something to placate Gerard with after he gets home from school. He’s well aware that there’s going to be an interrogation, Gerard will want to know everything and seniors don’t start until Monday.

By lunch he's given up. He ducks into the washroom, unbuckles the thin leather belt and drops to the toilet seat. Mikey starts to jerk off, keeping his lips closed and his free hand over his mouth. If he’s not perfectly silent, well, he’s fifteen and jerking off, he thinks the world can throw him a pardon.

Except, of course it can’t. That’s not the way things work in Mikey’s world, which is somehow always surrounded by drama. When he unlocks the door of the stall a boy with a lime green tie is leaning casually against the frame. He’s taller than him, but bent a bit so his face is right in Mikey's.

“I know what you were doing,” he singsongs.

Mikey stays silent. The guy grins, teeth perfectly white, probably made so by chemicals. He looks like the rich type that has everything perfect. “It's okay, I do it too. You should come meet my friends.”

Mikey looks evenly at him. At his old school he was fairly well known for his stone face, and it’s something he’d like to cultivate here. It’s harder to bully people that refuse to react.

“I'm not going to beg you,” the teen informs him. With a slight flourishing movement he turns and walks out.

Mikey goes to the sink to wash any leftover come off and thinks. -100 points for listening in on him jerking it, but +50 for not interrupting, +10 for not ridiculing him, +20 for inviting him, +10 for not giving a crap if Mikey follows him, and +10 for offering his own truth. It means he breaks even, and Mikey figures the next three years might go better with acquaintances. He dries his hands under the hot blowing air, not willing to rub his wet palms on his pants and fuck them up.

It takes him a bit to find the cafeteria, and assuming everyone at the table is affiliated with lime-tie, the dude's got a lot of friends. From first impression they look like the kind that won’t give him shit for the music he likes and his messily hairsprayed hair. And best of all, he thinks it might be possible to bring Gerard to them without the whole thing going up in flames. A guy with a beard is drawing on a black guy who’s got his jacket on the table and his sleeve rolled up. A guy with long curly red hair is fingercombing himself and actual chunks of soil are coming out. And two tall guys are having the classic ninja pirate argument.

“This is,” and out comes a pile of names, the list long enough to say that yes, everyone at the table is a friend of neon-tie’s. Mikey only catches a few, the more interesting ones; Butcher, Billvy, Ryland, Sisky. Most don’t do more than look up as neon-tie calls them out, a few don’t even do that. One that, if Mikey’s not seeing shit wrong through his smudge glasses, is actually wearing a tie with tiny grey marijuana leafs printed all over it, stumbles to his feet and gives Mikey a bro-hug.

“This is,” he says again, this time leaving a big pause. Mikey eventually catches on and supplies his name. “This is Mikey, he was enjoying the acoustics in the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

Oh fuck. Classic rookie mistake; assuming the first guy that talks to you is actually a nice guy, not a douche-bag. To be fair, Mikey’s never been the new kid before, most of the kids he knew in junior high went to the same high school he did. On the other hand, how many shitty made for teen movies has he watched where this exact scene -minus the masturbation- has happened? He’s a film connoisseur, or a pirater, whatthefuckever, he should know better.

Well, there’s no point in getting pissed, or trying to save his honour by denying it. They obviously wouldn’t believe a word, and Mikey doesn’t want to prolong this shit for any longer than he has to. His face, set into 'hopeful' blank switches over into ‘fuck you’ blank and he turns and starts to walk away, scanning the nearby tables for a place to sit. He can put up with them snickering from a few tables away, he just hopes nobody actually throws something at him while his back is turned.

“Oh come on! Don’t be a bitch. I’ve already _told_ you I do it too. Pete does it, Joe does it. Seriously, do you think there’s any dude at this table that doesn’t? Hands up, boys, if you’ve never jerked in the bathroom.”

It’s a move that would doom him in any horror movie, the same voice that screams don’t go into the basement is screaming don’t do it, but Mikey can’t help it. He looks back. There’s not a single hand up.

Shit. Fuck. He can do this. He can manage to make friends without having anyone vet them first. He can trust his own beliefs. He plops down on the opposite side of the two tall guys and says “But the real question is, in a fight between robots and dragons, who would win?”

“Well, dragons have fire, they can melt a robot,” says the thinner one. Ryland.

“Yeah, but robots have lasers, they can behead the stupid dragon.”

A voice from down the table pipes up “thanks a fucking lot for that, now they’ll never shut up.”

The next four classes go as well as can be expected. He’s got a least one guy from the table in each class. It turns out Ryland is his real name, but Sisky is actually Adam. And then the last bell rings and Mikey crams his binder into his backpack and waits until Patrick packs up his shit so they can leave together. A few of the guys are waiting outside the class. The frizzy redhead gives Patrick a trucker hat and they split off from everyone else.

Mikey’s not sure what the etiquette of this is. Does he ask for the numbers of the guys he knows so he can text them? Or just their emails because it assumes less? Or should he ask for everyone’s, and then end up calling people he doesn’t even know the name of? It’s fucking confusing, and he really doesn’t want to piss people off by doing the wrong thing. It’s his first taste of friendship outside Gee and Bert and Quinn, and he doesn’t want to let go.

He settles for letting them make the first moves, which results in no numbers or emails. He follows the group to the bank of lockers, he doesn’t need to go to his, there’s nothing in it yet. Some guys are getting rides with other guys, or other guy’s moms, some are telling each other to hurry the fuck up, they’re gonna miss the fucking bus. Mikey just stays silent. It doesn’t matter how long it takes him to get home.

Eventually the crowd disperses and it’s just Pete and Gabe. Gabe grins and asks “You wanna go enjoy the acoustics?”

What the fuck? Is he seriously going to harp on this until the end of time? He hopes his blank face shows how unimpressed he is.

But then Pete, the complete contradiction that is the boy with an illegal tattoo and emo bangs dyed red that plays on the soccer team, smiles and says “Why not?”

And Mikey’s trying, he’s _really trying_ to not look at any of the new guys as jerking fodder. Just because the black guy’s skin looks great against his white shirt, just because Billvy’s is washed often enough that it’s translucent and when he’s not wearing the jacket you can almost see his nipples, just because the robot lover has the first button undone on his shirt, so you can get a sneak of skin, just because every single one of them looks completely ravishable doesn’t mean he ever can, or that he should even want to. Maybe Bert and Quinn were easier. At least he didn’t want to fuck them.

“Um,” he starts.

“What? You can’t possibly say that you think jerking off in the bathroom is skeevy! Come on. Pete and I have nosy parents, we can’t get a break at home.”

Mikey would really like to know what that has to do with him. It’s not his fucking problem if Gabe’s parents won’t let him jerk off at home. But he finds himself following in their wake, taking the middle stall as Pete and Gabe take one on either side. He tries to keep the image of Pete naked from the waist down, shirt unbuttoned and slipping off one shoulder to reveal the tattoo he’s so proud of out of his head. He doesn’t want to think about taking off Gabe’s tie and wrapping it around his fingers before jerking Gabe off with the silk. His blocking methods are weak at best, and they crumble the second Pete whimpers, and Gabe responds to the needy sound by moaning ‘oh fuck’.

He comes in a bathroom stall for the second time in a day, and thinks it should probably be something to be embarrassed about. But when he stumbles out of the stall and Pete grins and tells him he forgot something, then reaches out and does up his zipper, Mikey can’t find it in himself to be shamed by it.


End file.
